


The Brain Surgeon

by Joshua_the_Terminian



Category: Dexter (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshua_the_Terminian/pseuds/Joshua_the_Terminian





	The Brain Surgeon

The Brain-Surgeon 

 

A little story for the final nemesis of Dexter. Also a great homage to Brian Moser and even Dexter himself. I would love to see Darri Ingolfsson on other great shows as a key character. Maybe Dante from The Walking Dead?

 

Takes place after season six, but before season eight.

 

Oliver Saxon was the dream guy for any woman. He was already in his mid 40’s, but still handsome. He had a great occupation, worked as an building inspector at Miami Prime Building Inspectors agency and had a long career. He spoke with an slight English accent. He bought his clothes at good shops like H&M and had condo in a good area of Miami, Florida. He worked regularly and enjoyed biking. He knew that the Czech and German beer-types were the best to enjoy on a hot day in Miami.

 

Oliver Saxon left his condo in 236 Glendora Ave. #1A and walked to his favorite café, the King’s Bay Café, at the beach of downtown Miami. 

 

Oliver walked in and sat on the counter near the old jukebox that the café had. The same jukebox after all these years.

 

“What would you like?” asked the waitress form the building inspector. 

 

“A cup of café, black, please” asked the man.

 

The waitress nodded and went to get the drink. Meanwhile Oliver checked through the songs of the jukebox, looking for something he’d like to listen while enjoying his drink. And he found what he’d like. The song was “Make your own kind of music” by Mama Cass.

 

Oliver put a coin in the jukebox and pressed the buttons. The waitress came and handed him over a cup of coffee.

 

Nobody can tell ya

 

There’s only one song worth singin’

 

And they might try to tell ya

 

Cause it hanges them up 

 

To see some like you

 

But you’ve gotta make your own kind of music

 

Sing your own special song

 

Make you own kind of music

 

Even if nobody else sings along

 

And the song went on. Oliver listened the song two times while enjoying a cup of coffee. After being done he rose, left a tip for the waitress and walked back to his condo. 

 

He took his car and drive to a building-site. As a building-inspector he followed the construction of a new shopping-center Oliver parked his car and walked to the site. There was a small tent and Oliver entered it. The architect of the project, Nigel Cavanaugh, was in the tent, enjoying a cup of coffee.

 

“Mr. Saxon!” smiled Nigel Cavanaugh. “Nice to see you join us, but I have the structure already checked by one of you’re guys!”

 

Oliver knew that. The structure of the project had already been checked by his co-worker Mac Jardine, but Oliver was for a different reason there.

 

“I know, but you know that these things have to be checked properly. I just check the plans, so my employer can sleep peacefully at night” explained Oliver.

 

“Okay, okay” said Nigel. “Jonah! Bring the blue-prints”

 

A young man came in with the prints. He put them on the table in the center of the table and Saxon pretended to research them.

 

“The air-ventilation looks good, so does the steel-structure…” he mumbled. “All looks fine. I’ll tell my employer”

 

“Of course” said Nigel. “Jonah, may you take Mr. Saxon back to his car?”

 

“Follow me, please” said Jonah.

 

Oliver and Jonah left the tent. 

 

“I swear I know your from something. Where you that one guys son? Arthur Mitchell’s son?” asked Oliver.

 

Jonah looked around. He was the son of the infamous Trinity-Killer that had lived in Miami a year ago.

 

“Don’t tell anyone!” he said. “I lost three jobs already cause I’m that fuckers son!”

 

“Don’t worry, you’re secret is well preserved with me” replied Oliver as he stepped into the car. “You’re not the only one with shitty parents”

 

“Thanks” Jonah walked back to the site.

 

Oliver Saxon smiled as the young man walked away. He came looking for a Mexican or Cuban for his “Special Project”, but the son of the Trinity-Killer was better.

 

And it happened like every time. Jonah was strapped in to a treatment chair in an old mental facility and Oliver did his “Special Project”. Jonah screamed in pain like everyone as his head was sawn in by the building-inspector. After he was dead the body was dumped in to the Everglades for the gators.

 

What Oliver did was a reminder of his past. What his parents did to him. His brother. The doctors in England. He’d coming for his mother and for the one she helped instead of him, Dexter Morgan.


End file.
